


Before We Jump

by MissAtomicBomb (mrs_nerimon)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bastards being bffs, F/M, Gen, Show-verse but only bc that's all I have rn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 12:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11806227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_nerimon/pseuds/MissAtomicBomb
Summary: Arya Stark's bastard boys bond on their way to the Wall.





	Before We Jump

**Author's Note:**

> Gendry and Jon don't even mention Arya in 7x05? Not on my watch.

The cave is dark, but Gendry's first thought as he stands beside the King in the North is that he looks like his sister. King Jon has the same coloring; the dark hair, the lean face. Gendry sees her in the grey of his eyes, the way he holds himself. 

He can remember only a little of what Lord Stark looked like when he visited Master Mott’s shop. He had the same hair the King sports now, the same wolf emblazoned on his tunic. 

Arya couldn't have worn anything with a wolf during their travels, but he knows she would have wanted to. Gendry thinks, briefly, of the biscuit from Hot Pie, the crude copy of the Stark sigil. 

He then thinks of the antlers sprouting from his war hammer, and wonders if they aren't more of a fake than Hot Pie's direwolf. 

He knows he's no Baratheon, never will be. He's got no real claim to King Robert. No right to truly call him his father, the way King Jon can with Lord Stark. _His_ father raised him. _His_ father made him a Stark in all but name.

Still, that’s all he has so he clings to it. Evokes the image of Stark and Baratheon banners flying side by side, to try and convince the King to let him come along.

But Jon isn’t the stern ruler he was expecting. He smiles (and that makes him look like Arya too, kind of lopsided and wrinkling cheeks) and clasps his hand. He’s kind and he’s welcoming and Gendry almost, almost lets it slip out.

_I know her. I knew her. I knew Arya._

But the King turns towards the Dragon Queen and Davos grabs his arm and nearly drags him out of the cave.

—

They’ve been on the boat for two days, and it’s already begun to feel too familiar. The rocking of the waves, the sound of the birds circling overhead. It’s like a horribly vivid flashback.

Only the water is getting icier as they head north, and the temperatures keep dropping. Gendry pretends not to be bothered, because the others don’t seem to be, but his fingers shake as he grips the hammer.

Night falls and most of them fall asleep. Ser Jorah with his head along the wooden edge, his arm about to drop into the water. The Hound sits straight up as if still awake, but every now and then let's out a little snore.

King Jon remains awake, watching the sky straight out ahead of them. There’s nothing but open water for ages, but he seems like he's staring right at something.

The thought creeps back into his head, looking a lot like a young girl wielding a skinny sword, and before Gendry can do the smart thing and find a way to gracefully phrase it, it escapes through the crack in his chest he’s been trying to fill for five years.

_“I knew your sister.”_

He’s never been a very good talker.

The King doesn’t seem to notice his blunt words. He mulls over the thought, eyebrows knitting together.

"In Kings Landing?" He doesn't look over, keeping his gaze fixed up ahead.

Gendry wonders how he appears so calm, when it feels as if his own heart is about to beat right out of his chest.

"No. Well, yes, I met her there before we took off for the wall-"

"You were going to take the black?" Jon lets out a laugh, and he turns to face him.

"I had to. She was supposed to be coming too. She told us all she was a boy, but I could tell it right away.” He remembers the way she looked, a scrawny little thing with a fine sword and lumpy hair. Clever and quick and brave, more than he ever was, ever could be.

“What?” Jon’s frowning, and his eyes narrow as he looks at him. “You’re talking about Sansa?”

“N-No, Your Grace." It feels like her name stuck is in his throat, tucked away in a private hiding place. "Arya. Lady Arya." 

She'd be a princess now, wouldn't she? The sister of a King.  _Princess Arya Stark_ , only he’s certain she’d hate to hear that.

Jon looks at him in awe. He appears at a loss for a moment, his eyes seeming far away, somewhere else.

“Arya.” He breathes, and in that moment, Gendry understands just what he means.

He’s her brother. Her _best_ brother, Arya confided to him once. She loved all her siblings but she loved Jon especially, for all the ways they fit together.

Gendry supposes he had fancied himself a big brother of sorts back then. Like King Jon must have been for her.A protector and a friend and someone she liked to boss around. Someone to rely on. Someone to care about.

But he'd never really had a sister before, so maybe that's not exactly what it was like.

Because sometimes, when Arya would watch him smith at Harrenhal, shirtless in the heat and sweat dripping down his back, he found that he rather liked the feeling of her eyes on his chest and his arms, her cheeks flushing just slightly-

Jon coughed beside him. The night felt much colder, all of a sudden.

It was probably a crime to think that in front of the King. He'd be beheaded, or worse.

Besides, it hadn't truly been like _that_. She'd been young then, still a girl, and he never would have _tried_ anything, _done_ anything. 

A treacherous part of his brain whispers _she wouldn't be a girl anymore_ , but he tightens his grip on the hammer and tries desperately to think of something else. 

“She’s at Winterfell.” Jon can’t keep the smile from his face as he says the words. “She’s home.”

She’s _alive_ goes unspoken, and something gives in his chest. His face rivals Jon's grin, and he looks down. She was always searching for a home. A pack. Gendry thanks the Seven she’s found one.

“She talked about you.” He smooths his fingers over the wood as he looks at the hammer, Arya’s face once again in the forefront of his brain. “You gave her that sword.”

Jon’s face might split in two with the force of his smile.

“Needle.” He laughs again, so loud he could wake the others. He hardly seems to care. “I can’t believe she still has it.”

Instantly, Gendry wants to share everything that happened. He wants to talk about Yoren, and Harrenhal and Tywin Lannister, and things he has tried so desperately not to think about for years. He wants to hear Jon’s stories too, about Lord Stark and Arya and even King Robert.

“I’ll take you to Winterfell.” Jon says.

It might be the only claim from a King that Gendry’s ever believed.

“After-“ The King cuts himself off, and they both share a look. “After all this.”

He always knew something was coming. The world was building towards something big, and he knew he would be a part of it.

He always hoped Arya Stark would be too.


End file.
